Be Ok
by Winter-sama
Summary: I'm trying my hand at a casefic - When the unimaginable happens, when life dredges up the worst that humanity has to offer, is it still possible to find hope and comfort in someone else?  A quasi-sequel to 'Colder' - though not nearly so cheerful.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone! Here it is, at long last - the sequel to 'Colder'. Note that you don't actually have to have read 'Colder' to understand this story - I guess it's more of a sequel of sorts. It's set in the universe that follows those events, and references them (quite liberally, I might add!), but it is a stand alone story.**

**Just a quick heads up - the rating is partially for sexual situations (I will not be writing anything explicit, but it will be clear enough :) ), but more than anything else, it is because this will be a pretty heavy and pretty dark fic. I'm trying my hand at a case-fic - and I'm trying my hand at pushing the characters to their limits. This will be one hell of an emotional roller coaster folks, so buckle up!**

**For those of you who enjoyed the hilarity of 'Colder' - I'm sorry to say, there won't be much of that here - but I will try to include some light-hearted scenes - and there WILL be GADS of fluff! tons of it!**

**As a side note - new chapters will probably be slower to go up than usual - you can expect at least one a week. Of course, the more reviews I get, the more inspired I am to post ahead of my own internal schedule (what can I say? I'm a sucker for your amazing feedback and will do anything to get more!)**

**On with the fic!**

**disclaimer: Yes. Yes they are mine, as a matter of fact. Also, I have a lovely bridge for sale if you're interested.**

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**Be Ok**

Katherine Beckett was not a woman who accepted comfort easily. Even before the death of her mother, she had always been fiercely independent, choosing only to allow people into her life that she could control. Her mother's death, her father's downward spiral – they only served to reinforce her need for complete and total self-sufficiency. If you couldn't count on your own family not to leave you, who could you count on?

_Katherine Beckett._

It was who she was, who she had become and the only person on whom she could count. That was what she had always told herself. It was her mantra. It was her safety net.

Until now.

Lying in this man's arms, her eyes still puffy and red, her cheeks encrusted with the salty remains of the torrential downpour of tears from only hours before, she realises for the first time in her life that she might not have to carry the weight of the world on her own.

She thinks back on her past relationships, some of which were ended by her, others by them.

The grunge rocker boy who smelled like wet flannel – she had ended that one once the appeal of pissing off her dad had worn off.

Royce. _"I was in love with you."_ The very fact that had only just recently admitted to him how much he had meant to her said a lot – especially since even as she spoke those words she hid behind the guise of tracing his location.

Then there was Will – in the six months they had been together, she had let him in more than any other man in her life up until then; when he walked away from her, it only served to reinforce her conviction that letting them in could leave you so much more than shattered.

Then there was Josh; the poor guy never even knew until it was over that the Kate that he was so in love with had only been the smallest tip of the iceberg. She hadn't even begun to let him – likely never would have.

And now – here she was – not just physically naked in the arms of Richard Castle, but stripped of all of her defenses, her soul laid bare for him to either embrace or to crush. As much as she relished in the peace that she currently found in his arms, she found herself on edge, waiting for the inevitable shoe to drop.

She sighed, closing her eyes and burrowing deeper into his arms. He hadn't left her the whole time she had been sick. He hadn't blamed her, ever, for his own three days of flu-induced misery. And now – even after bearing witness to the carnage of the case they were currently working, even after falling apart that first night and letting her put the pieces back together again – now, he was the one stopping her from being sucked into that darkness.

She feels the tears in her eyes again, thinking about the scene.

Four days. They had been working the case now for four days and they were nowhere nearer to bringing justice to the families of the victims. The guilt plucked away at her, it pulled at her outward stoicism, it wore her down, body, mind and soul until she was left raw and exposed for anyone to see.

"Kate."

She felt his arms tighten around her, his voice low and hoarse from sleep and exhaustion and muffled by her own hair as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. She felt her own breath hitch in her throat as she fought back the tears that threatened again.

"Stop, please Kate. You can't blame yourself for this."

The sadness and guilt in his own voice was nearly her undoing. "They were only _children_," she chokes out on a sob, her teeth clenched, her shoulders tense.

"We'll get him, Kate," he says with complete conviction and she is amazed by the faith that this man has in her.

"You don't know that, Castle-"

"Yes, I do," he interrupts her, rolling her over in his arms and forcing her to look him in the eyes. She is shocked by the depth of emotion held within that sea of blue, the tears that threaten to fall from his own eyes, and above all, by the quiet trust and certainty that what he says is not only the truth, but the only truth possible.

And then his lips are on hers and she is falling. The horror of their world is fading and, at least for that one moment, is replaced with love and comfort like she's never felt in her life – like she's never allowed herself to feel. She feels his hands on her body, feels him move in her and feels his tears on her face as she joins him in a mutual and shattering climax.

She doesn't know what she'll do if this man ever leaves her – for tonight, however, their need for each other outweighs every other concern.

Neither sleeps that night – they spend it holding each other together until the darkness fades to light. With a lingering kiss and reciprocal words of support and comfort, they shower, dress and return to the precinct to face the laughing faces of those children, now taped to the murder board.

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_**Four days earlier…**_

"Beckett."

"You better get down here. Playground on 8th Ave."

Sighing as she dragged her still sleepy body out of bed, she looks at the clock on the bedside table.

_7:35_

She's about to hang up with a "be there in 10," when Esposito's voice stops her.

"Don't call Castle."

"Why not?" she's perplexed and concerned at the tone of the other detective's voice.

"He's already here. He was here when it happened."

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**Oh yes, my darling readers - I have jumped on board the oh so cruel cliffhanger train!**

**I hope that nobody is going to be too confused by the timeline of this story - I'm trying my hand at non-linear story telling - so there will be a certain amount of bouncing around in time as my muse sees fit. Please let me know if you really truly hate this story format - I could be convinced to follow a more traditional format if it really bothers you guys!**

**Remember, your wishes are my command! So please, read and review - and for good or for bad, let me know what you think - I can't improve if nobody tells me where I've gone wrong!**

**Cheers!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello my wonderful readers!**

**I have kinda a serious side note for everyone - and I beg you, PLEASE read this before you continue.**

**This chapter is disturbing. In fact, I almost didn't post it. It disturbed me to write it. It's based off an actual crime that happened in my home country several years ago, and justice was never found for those victims. In a way, I'm writing this as a kind of acknowledgment that they haven't been forgotten. Please, do not read this if reading about the murder of children is something that you're not comfortable with. I've rated this M for a reason and this chapter is pretty much that reason. From here on in, it will be about solving the murders - but it will also be about how people cope with this kind of atrocity. As I said in the first chapter, this will be a pretty intense roller coaster ride, though this will likely be the darkest chapter of this particular story (at least I hope so - I'm not sure I have it in me to write another one like this).  
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**Chapter 2**

If Richard Castle has known what awaited him that day, he would've just stayed in bed. Unfortunately for him, he was lacking in any precognitive abilities as well as being plagued by both writer's block _and_ insomnia. It would seem that the universe was conspiring to keep him pacing the loft in a t-shirt and sweats, trying desperately not to pick up the phone to call Beckett, just to see if she might be awake.

_Which, of course, she won't be since it's 5.30 in the morning_, he reminded himself ruefully, finally turning towards the door, grabbing his cross-trainers and headphones on the way out. Figuring if he couldn't sleep and he couldn't be productive, he could at least get some much needed exercise; with any luck, it might even serve to wear him out and finally let him get some sleep.

Despite the punishing pace (at least by his standards, though he could imagine that Beckett would consider it a gentle jog), he found that he still could not turn his mind off. He just couldn't keep her out of his thoughts, despite the years of suppressing his feelings for her, this time she had wormed her way so far into his stream of consciousness that everything he did or looked at reminded him of her.

It had been two weeks since they had both returned to work. Two weeks during which neither had re-visited the same level of closeness that they had shared during their illness; sitting together in the back of the ambulance as she re-bandaged his hand was the closest they had come. That wasn't to say that things had been awkward; quite the opposite in fact. He felt like she was more open and comfortable around him than ever before. When her mother's case had reared its head again, she had gone directly to him. The kiss that they'd shared that night was entirely different from the one that they'd shared in her apartment their last night together. While that one had been filled with tenderness and time, the kiss in the alley had been tense, passionate but hurried. She had been on guard, even as that one small moan escaped the recesses of her throat.

Since then he reveled in every opportunity to touch her; it never ceased to amaze him when she let him. If they were alone together, sometimes at the murder board, sometimes poring over files, he would move closer to her until their shoulders just touched and he could see that small smile grace her features that he loved so much.

But they didn't talk about it. In many respects, he knew it wasn't because she was running away, it was simply because they didn't _have_ to. The words they had spoken on their last night together during their illness were enough for now. They knew where they stood and they were content to let things develop naturally…most of the time.

Most of the time being whenever she didn't haunt his dreams.

Most of the time being when he didn't wake up in his bed aching for her and reaching over to find the other half of his bed empty.

Sighing, he turned his focus back to the sound of his feet on the asphalt and the sun just coming up over the skyline. As he was passing the playground that he used to bring Alexis to when she was little, he found himself having to leap back to avoid getting hit by a truck exiting the adjacent alley. The driver took no notice as it tore down the street at breakneck speed, nearly causing another accident at a red light only a block further down.

Regaining his equilibrium, a muffled sound from the alley caught his ear. Advancing slowly into the alley, leery of another speeding brush with death, he tried to locate the source of the sound, but found only a pile of black garbage bags next to the dumpster. As he was about to turn around and start jogging back home, however, he heard it again.

It was a cough and it came from the pile of garbage bags. As he approached the pile, it took his brain a moment to register what it was seeing.

_One of the bags was moving._

The realisation that there was a _person_ inside one of those bags struck him and without another thought he rushed towards the bag in question, tearing it open. It wasn't until he looked down at the bloody and battered face revealed behind the black plastic that the horror of what he had stumbled across slapped him full across the face.

Holding the child cradled in one arm, he grabbed for his phone with his free hand.

"_9-1-1 What's your emergency?_"

"My name is Richard Castle, I'm at the playground on 8th Avenue. I need an ambulance and the police."

"_Sir,what is the nature of the emergency?_"

Fighting back a wave of nausea, he found that he couldn't put into words what lay before him. Instead he opted for a whispered "please, hurry," before hanging up the phone and trying desperately to save the small life that he held in his arms.

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When Beckett arrived at the scene she found herself rushing towards Castle who was sitting on the curb next to the ambulance, covered in blood and looking more lost than she had ever seen. Her heart in her throat, she reached him in only a few strides, dropping down to the curb in front of him, her hands going to his face, his chest, his hands, trying desperately to find the source of the blood.

"It's not mine," she hears him whisper hoarsely, his eyes, disturbingly hollow.

"Castle," she holds his hands in hers, relief flooding through her that he's alright, "what happened?"

Instead of answering he looks up over her shoulder to the alley behind her and she feels a shudder wrack his body. Turning towards the alley, she sees Lanie in the distance, her head bowed, Esposito standing close behind her.

As she stands to move to the alley, she feels his hands tighten on hers.

"Please, don't go in there."

The sadness on his drawn face concerns her and she wonders what she's about to find in that alley.

"Castle, I have to go, it's my job," she feels his grip loosen a little. Squeezing his hands one last time, she promises him that she'll be back as soon as she can get a handle on the situation. He nods mutely, pulling the blanket that the paramedic gave him more tightly around his shoulders.

Filled with apprehension, she starts to walk towards the ME and the detective. What she sees stops her dead in her tracks. She wants to turn around and run back to Castle. She wants to pretend that she never took the call. She wants to throw up.

Spread out in the alley are the bodies of six children, all beaten, all bloody, and not one of them breathing. When she meets Esposito's gaze, she sees in it all of the emotions that are coursing through her own veings.

Horror.

Disgust.

Rage.

She feels her blood boil and she sees that he feels the same. As Ryan enters the alley, the three share a look that speaks the same for them all:

_We're going to catch this sick son-of-a-bitch and when we do, he's gonna fry._

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_**A quick thank you to my wonderful reviewers from the first chapter. I'm happy to hear that you're still with me, despite this major dramatic turn in my storytelling. I promise you all that a new, more lighthearted and fun fic is in the works.**_

_**Please, let me know what you think - I'm not sure if I should continue this story or not. As I said at the top, I very nearly didn't post this, and I'm still not certain if I should have.  
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	3. Chapter 3

**Hello my wonderful readers! I wanted to thank all of you who stuck with me through the last chapter. I also needed to thank you all for your support and encouragement with this story. I honestly would not have been able to continue this without your words.**

**Now, remember when I said this was gonna be an emotional roller coaster? Well after the intense heaviness of the last chapter, I decided that we all needed a little fluffy interlude. Never fear - it all still fits into the story - that seems to be the great advantage of non-liner story telling - you can always jump forwards or backwards to happier, fluffier times! Also - this chapter is a gift to all of you who read 'Colder' and wanted to see the fallout - so to speak - of Lanie's little photography session ;)**

**I hope you all enjoy!**

**disclaimer - I already wrote one, remember? I said I owned them and still didn't get sued. So there! :p**

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**Chapter 3**

**Two weeks earlier…**

Kate Beckett, NYPD Detective, relentless pursuer of justice and all around master of hiding her deepest thoughts and feelings, was nervous. Not just nervous – no – if she were completely honest with herself, she might use the words 'apprehensive', 'fidgety', and maybe, just maybe, 'scared shitless'.

_Yeah_, she thought to herself chewing her lower lip, _definitely that last one_.

Standing on the elevator on her way up to 'Homicide', she stared at the rising floor numbers, as though they somehow held the secrets to the universe. Somehow, the same elevator ride that she took several times a day now seemed to be simultaneously taking forever and not taking near long enough.

It was the first day back at work with Castle and she wasn't sure what she was more afraid of – how Castle was going to act around her at work, or how the boys were going to act around her _and_ Castle, since she had no doubts that Lanie had relayed the events of their illness '_in gory detail I'm sure'._

Feeling her stomach in her throat at the mocking 'ping' and 'swoosh' of the elevator as it spat her out on her floor, she steeled herself for the worst.

She was not disappointed.

She froze in place, unable to move. It was as though if she were to move, that _thing_ would actually physically gobble her up whole.

Still standing only feet from the elevator, she was only vaguely aware of the same sounds behind her that had just heralded her own arrival. That is, until she heard his voice, only inches from her right ear.

"I'm a dead man, aren't I?"

It was as if his voice had somehow released her and she found herself turning to the man in question, seeing him jump back in fear of her attack.

"Don't worry, Castle. You're much further down my list than you usually are today," she smirked seeing him relax, though he still watched her wary of a trap to lure him within her reach, he tentatively held out her coffee, almost as a peace offering.

Having gathered her bearings, the wheels of her mind turning furiously, she took the proffered coffee, turned again on her heel and marched decisively towards the offending "gift" waiting for her, taped rather aggressively to the murder board.

There, in 3' by 6' living colour, Kate Beckett came face to face with the rather too cozy image of her and Castle on her bathroom floor – her leaning against the cupboards, him with his head in her lap, both totally out cold.

As she struggled to take the poster down, she craned her head around trying to locate the likeliest culprits, all the while glaring down the knowing grins, raised eyebrows and monetary exchanges of the other cops at the precinct. Luckily, however, the two detectives in question and their ME accomplice were no where to be seen.

"I doubt that's a coincidence," she heard him say, reading her mind as usual and moving to help her with the ridiculous amounts of duct tape holding the poster to the board.

"What they don't realise," she turned to him, an especially evil smiling spreading slowly on her face, "is that by leaving their own desks unattended—"

"—they've left themselves completely open to revenge," he finished gleefully, his own eyes lighting up with devious thoughts of revenge. He still owed them for the 'Mummy's Curse' pranks from last year, after all.

Grinning, she realised that she shouldn't have been so worried. It was as though seeing themselves, nearly life-sized, had completely quelled any nascent awkwardness – in nearly every respect things were as they had always been and she was relieved.

Still completely in sync, they turned to the mounds of duct tape the duo had used to tape the poster. When their eyes met, they both grinned._  
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Yes, though she was, in a strange way, grateful for the little prank, she was certainly not going to pass up her opportunity for a good prank. She doubted she could have talked Castle out of it anyways – not that she would have even tried.

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It was well after noon when Ryan and Esposito deemed it safe to return to the 12th. Figuring that Beckett would be in at the crack of dawn, they had set up their little gift for her the night before with plans to be 'away from their desks' for at least a few hours until she had cooled down. She had a sense of humour, they knew, or else they wouldn't have done it; she also gave it as good as she got it. Unfortunately for the two in question, they had forgotten that little piece of her personality, having been too giddy with the thought of the look on her face and how Castle was going to be her unwitting victim – they had specifically waited until the first day that they would _both _be back at work for just that reason. If she wore herself out taking Castle apart, then she wouldn't have any energy left to take them apart – or at least there would significantly less of it.

Sadly, they very quickly realised that they were sorely mistaken.

The enormity of their mistake became more and more apparent as their own desks came into view.

"What the hell?..." Esposito just stood looking dumbfounded at his desk, now completely and perfectly covered in duct tape without a single exposed inch.

"Well, somebody left all these piles of tape," they looked towards a smirking Beckett standing in the doorway of the break room, Castle standing just behind her, both holding cups of coffee, "it just seemed like such a shame to just throw it out."

Still sporting a self-satisfied smirk, she sauntered back to her desk, having high-fived Castle. As they both plopped themselves down her phone started to ring.

"That must be Lanie," she grinned even wider, leveling a meaningful look at the two detectives who were still trying to figure out what to do with their desks.

She was rewarded with a look of complete panic from Esposito.

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**Two weeks later…**

Javier Esposito had been a homicide detective for the last six years. Before that he had served in Afghanistan. In that time he thought that he had seen the absolute worst that humanity had to offer. He had seen child-soldiers set off road-side bombs. He had seen men slaughter men, women and children by the dozens in cold blood. He had seen every type of homicide imaginable in 'civilized' society.

All of those horrors paled in comparison to what he found when he got to the crime seen, minutes after the ambulance, Lanie only minutes behind him.

By his count there were already four bodies laid out in the alley, two girls and two boys, none of which could have been older than six years of age. What truly horrified him, however, was the realisation that the firefighters present were still sifting through a pile of garbage bags. His first thought was that there were more bodies – his second, the thought that would haunt him for weeks, even months, was that the bodies were actually _in_ the garbage bags.

"Oh god…" he heard his partner moan only a few steps behind him, having just come to the same conclusion.

Sharing a look, they set their shoulders and approached the scene. Hearing the Coroner's Van approaching, he braced himself for the ME's reaction. He wasn't at all surprised when she grabbed her bag and set to work without a word. He could see the tension in her shoulders as she fought to detach herself, the tick in her jaw as she clenched her teeth against the bile rising in her throat. He saw it because he felt it too.

Hearing Ryan clear his throat behind him, he saw him tilt his head in the direction of one of the ambulances – or more specifically to the man hunched down on the sidewalk behind it.

He hadn't thought it possible, but he felt his stomach drop even further.

"Shit."

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**I wanted to send out a very special thank you to Dee Hensley, Beckett NYPD, whimorawhy, Elysian1879, NewspaperBalloons and Jayce Gish - you guys have stuck it through with me for several stories - I look forward to your reviews always. :)**

**Review that made me smile (oddly) - _gmay_: until the wheels fall off! :)**

**To Marine-CO - Merci beaucoup pour vos belles mots!**

**Please continue to send in reviews! You guys are the ones that keep me writing - y'all make it worth it! :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello my beloved readers! I apologise for the slightly longer delay than usual with this chapter - sadly, life has gotten the better of me and I've been woefully failing at dealing with the workload as the quarter comes to an end. Really, it might even be fair to say that I suck at life in general right now.**

**The flip side of that is I did totally get to experience to whole 'Hollywood Oscar Glam' thing last night at my first (and likely last) ever Red Carpet pre-Oscar party. I'm not gonna lie - it was cool as all get out even though I am completely incapable of recognizing a celebrity if they reached out and bit me in the ass (and there's a few that I wouldn't be opposed to that...I'm just saying lol). For instance, I apparently had a 20 minute conversation with James Cameron and NO IDEA who he was until later when someone asked me how I knew him...yeah...I am THAT cool.**

**So other than to show off (lol) the point of that little snippet sidenote was to make sure you guys didn't feel TOO bad for me - I might suck at life right now - but it's not ALL bad!**

**So with that delightfully ridiculously off-topic and completely unrelated A/N out of the way - On with the fic!**

**disclaimer: I don't own them...yet.**

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**Chapter 4**

**14 hours later…**

Detective Kate Beckett was not simply exhausted, she was drained in every sense of the word. Just when she thought that she had seen the worst that people could do to each other, she came across a case like this.

_Not quite,_ she thought silently, staring at the murder board. This one was without a doubt the most horrific scene she had experienced in all of her time as a homicide detective. She prided herself on her ability to compartmentalise, to both empathise with the victims and their families while remaining emotionally detached.

_One foot out the door._

This case, though, she could feel that this case could very well break her.

Rubbing her hands over her tired face, she stood up and moved to the murder board, her eyes scanning the faces of the six victims' autopsy pictures.

It had been fourteen hours since Castle had made his horrifying discovery and they hadn't so much as identified a single child.

_Castle_.

Her shoulders sagged under the weight of her worries. She had dropped him off at home on the way back from the crime scene late that morning. That he hadn't argued with her had raised a red flag in her mind, but she had shoved that to the back her mind too. She couldn't keep him with her on this one – _she_ was struggling to keep it together on this case, and she was trained to cope with these types of situations. He neither had the benefit of her training, nor the ability to look into the faces of those children and _not_ see his own daughter reflected back. That one of the children had literally died in his arms before the emergency crews could arrive furthered her commitment to protect him from having to live through this case anymore than he already had.

She had been grateful that Martha had been home when she had walked the listless man up to the loft – though it didn't fully quell the guilt she felt at leaving his side, it helped to know that he wasn't alone. Together, they had convinced him to take a sleeping pill and to get some rest until Alexis got home from school.

She frowned thinking of the text message she had received from the redhead hours ago. It was clear that she was worried about her dad, but Beckett felt like there was something more that the girl was trying to keep to herself, as though she was afraid of bothering the busy detective.

As though she could see inside her thoughts, the caller ID of the girl in question suddenly appeared on her cellphone.

"Hi Alexis," she tried to answer with a reassuring levity that she didn't feel.

"Detective Beckett?" she heard the hiccup in the young girl's voice that told her she'd been crying, "can you come over? Please…he needs you and I don't know what to do. I'm scared."

Feeling her stomach sink to her feet, she was already grabbing her coat and walking towards the elevator before she had even heard the girl's last quiet words.

"I'm on my way right now."

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Normally she would never abuse her power as a cop for personal business, but tonight she made an exception. Running lights and sirens nearly the entire way, she made it to Castle's loft in record time, a mere five minutes after hanging up with the young lady. After an elevator ride that felt like it lasted an eternity, she found herself quickly being ushered into the loft by his mother, who looked to have aged ten years since she had seen her earlier in the day.

As much as she had thought that nothing could possibly break her heart more than her arrival at the scene that morning, what she saw upon entering the loft cut her through to her very soul. Every horizontal space in the living room was covered with shoeboxes and photo albums. Pictures of Alexis at all ages were scattered throughout the space and at its very centre was the man himself, arms wrapped tightly around the girl herself.

As she stepped closer she was able to see that he had fallen into an agitated sleep sitting up on the sofa with his arms clutched tightly around the teenager. Alexis, on the other hand, was wide awake, holding on to her dad as tight as she could as though she could hold him together. Seeing Beckett's entrance, the girl's eyes widened in relief and filled with silent tears.

"Kate," she hiccupped softly, trying not to wake her dad.

"It's okay sweetie," she found herself adding the endearment without a second thought as she approached, running her hand assuredly through the girl's hair, "tell me what happened."

"Gram called me during lunch to warn me about the scene that dad found this morning," she began to recount her story between hitches and sniffles, "so I came home straight after school cause I knew he'd be going crazy worrying about me. When I walked through the door he was sitting in the living room and had pulled all this stuff and when he saw me it was like he was seeing a ghost and he ran over and just hugged me and started to cry and shake and couldn't let go…" she stopped in her story to catch her breath as another sob shook her body, "he just kept saying over and over again how sorry he was that he couldn't save me. I didn't know what to do, so I just held him back until he just stopped and fell asleep."

Disturbed, she looked to Martha who nodded to confirm the young girl's story.

"How—"

"Two hours," the older woman replied in a voice that betrayed her own exhaustion, anticipating the question.

Sighing, Kate realised that she was going to have to put her own feelings and apprehension aside if she was going to be able to help the man that meant more to her than anyone else in the world. Tonight, it wasn't about her, it was about a broken man, the scared daughter who loved him and his worried mother. Laying her hand on his shoulder, she shook him gently to wake him.

He jolted awake, nearly dropping the distressed teenager on the floor with his sudden movement. Seeing the look of panic and confusion so clearly expressed on his usually jovial face, she quickly steadied Alexis with one hand while grabbing his chin gently with the other, forcing him to meet her eyes as his breaths started coming more short and rapid.

"Castle, look at me. You're ok. Alexis is ok. I need you to listen to me. Everyone's ok."

It took a few seconds before comprehension registered and his breathing slowed. Unfortunately, as it did, the look of heart wrenching sadness and loss that replaced the previous look of panic tore further at her guilt for leaving him alone when he had so obviously been hurting.

Seeing Alexis still perched in his lap, his eyes widened as he remembered the events of the afternoon. Pulling her close, though with far more gentleness than he had earlier, Kate could hear him apologising for scaring her.

"It's ok Dad," the teenager smiled bravely, returning the hug, though pulling back after a few seconds. "I love you, Dad. I'm not going anywhere, promise."

For just a brief second, Kate was relieved to see a small smile of relief grace his face.

Seeing the toll that the day had taken on Alexis as well as her father, and glad that the situation had been diffused for the time being, she found herself helping the young girl up out of her father's lap and into the arms of her grandmother for a brief hug before the two turned in for the night.

Alone now, Kate turned back to Castle and saw that he had returned to his sitting position, though he was now leaning forward, his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking slightly. Kneeling in front of him, she held his face gently in both hands forcing him to face her. The myriad of emotions flitting across his moist eyes took her breath away. Before she knew what had happened, he'd clutched her hands in his own and pulled her down to take the place that his daughter had only just vacated. Wrapping his arms around her frame, he buried his head in her hair and breathed her in as though she was his only link to sanity.

"Castle?" she asked softly, running her hands through his hair.

"God I fucked this up, didn't I?" he muttered shakily.

Sighing, she wrapped her arms around him replying with a simple "no, Castle. You did what any normal human being would do after what you saw and lived through this morning. You broke, Castle, simple as that. I've been trained men, men who I've considered to be as cold and heartless as anyone I've ever met break under lesser circumstances. Nobody blames you for that."

"I terrified Alexis," he pulled back looking at her with doubt in his eyes, "how can I possibly consider myself a good father after doing something like that? I'm no better than the monsters who put those children—"

"Stop it!" she cut him off brusquely, "you listen to me, Castle, because I'm only going to say this once: you are _nothing_ like those monsters. You are a good man and an amazing father. Alexis doesn't blame you for what happened, none of us do."

Making sure that he was looking her straight in the eyes as she spoke so that he could see the truth in her words, she felt the muscles of his body relax just a fraction and she smiled faintly leaning in to touch her lips briefly to his. Pulling back she said "if I ever hear you talking like that again, I _will_ pull out my gun and shoot you."

She was rewarded with a smile that nearly reached his tired eyes. Untangling herself from his arms, she stood, pulling him up with her and leading him towards his bedroom. The door was scarcely closed behind them when she found herself pushed up against it and his lips were on hers, fierce and passionate. She felt herself responding in kind, pouring her own emotions into the kiss.

"Help me remember," he whispered hoarsely pulling back, though his hands continued to tug at her clothes.

"Remember what?" she asked breathlessly, tugging at his t-shirt and pulling it over his head.

"Help me remember that I'm alive – that _we're_ alive," he all but groaned, moving his mouth to the sensitive places of her neck.

"We're alive, Castle," she moaned in returned as he continued his delicious assault her neck, "we're oh-so-very much alive."

Pushing him towards the bed leaving a trail of discarded clothing in their wake, they proceeded to remind each other again and again throughout that long and sleepless night that yes, they were still alive.

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**There you have it folks. I hope that this could live up to your expectations! I've been a little bit worried about this fic since I haven't been getting a lot of response from it - please, even if it's something that you don't like, _all_ feedback is good feedback. It lets us writers know that you're still reading. And since we don't get paid, really, we're doing this just to hear what you think about it :)**

**For those of you who did review - you guys are truly amazing and fantastic and I thank you from the very bottom of my heart. Without you I don't think I would have even gotten as far as Chapter 4. This has been a tremendously difficult fic for me to write and you guys have helped me in ways that you can't even know.**

**Thank you.**


	5. Chapter 5

**First things first - to those of you who have either reviewed, favourited this story, or favourited me - THANK YOU! I realised that after I posted the last chapter, I was unfair to all of you. Two of my reviewers in particular made me realise this:**

**1) Beckett NYPD: you're right - as hard as this story is to write - it is just as hard to read and process. As such, it can be very difficult to write a review for.**

**2)LocoGreggo: first, thank you for your encouragement! second - and more importantly, you made me realise that it's not the number of reviews that I get, it's the quality of them. It's so true that a thousand 'that's awesomes' are great but can get overdone. What my reviewers give me, however, is so much more than that.  
**

**TO ALL MY REVIEWERS:**

**You all go the extra mile to not only say 'this story is awesome' but you give me your thoughts on writing style, characterisation, and plot. I hope you know that I listen to your suggestions and try to incorporate them into my follow up chapters whenever I can - and THAT is what makes your reviews so amazing. **

**And so, with that - I want to apologise for being ungrateful - if even one of you out of the 1000+ readers (all of whom I am so blessed to be read by) leaves a few words behind, I am incredibly thankful. But I am equally thankful to those of you who are reading the story at all, period.  
**

**...so enough of the sappy crap...on with the new chapter!**

**Sorry for the delay - there's only one week left in the academic quarter and life's a little nutso right now.**

**disclaimer: I am not in any way, shape or form, Andrew Marlow. In fact, until he gets rid of Josh, I'm considering outright removing him from my twitter. Meanwhile, I'm gonna play with his characters for awhile.**

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**Chapter 5**

**Sunrise…**

He lie in bed, his arms wrapped around the extraordinary woman who smelled like cherries and brought peace to his tortured mind when nothing else could break through his own personal hell. He still didn't know what he ever did to deserve her, but he wasn't going to question it at the risk of tempting fate into realising that it had somehow screwed up and decided to take her away from him. He shuddered at the thought and buried his head into her neck and hair, breathing her in.

Feeling his shudder, she rolled over to face him and he was stunned at the depth of the emotions that he saw in her green eyes...

Sympathy.

Understanding.

Caring.

What shocked him more, however, was what he didn't see –

No fear.

No judgement.

"Castle?" she whispered softly, reaching up to smooth her hand over his brow.

She looked exhausted, the dark circles under her eyes reminding him of the meltdown that had brought them to their current position. He broke from her gaze, feeling shame and guilt well up in him.

"Don't"

The tone of her voice startles him into meeting her gaze again.

"You can't keep doing this, Castle. You can't blame yourself for any of it."

He feels his emotions rise up to the surface again, his eyes becoming moist. He knows, rationally, that what she says is true. He's not the monster that threw those children out like trash, that starved them until they were too weak to fight back, that beat them bloody, again and again, breaking their tiny bones for no other reason than to cause pain...

Feeling the bile rise up in his throat, he breaks from her embrace, barely making it to the adjoining en suite before the heaves over took his body.

He's not sure how long he's been hunched over the toilet battling dry heaves before he feels her gentle hand on his naked back.

"I'm sorry," he mutters not looking up, "I just keep seeing them…seeing _her_…watching the life go out of her eyes…"

"Oh Castle…" she whispers, wrapping her arms around him from behind, remembering how much the little girl who had died in his arms had looked like his own daughter – her long red hair, matted and dirty, her blue eyes, closed now forever. She understands perfectly his actions from the day before – if anything, she's surprised that he's doing as well as he is.

"There was nothing you could've done to save her—"

"That's not it," he cuts her off, looking up from the toilet for the first time since he got there. "It's not that she died," he looks her in the eyes, begging her to understand, "she gave up…"

He sees understanding in her eyes, understanding and sadness. As he'd held that little life in his arms, he cradled the girl, begged her to hold on until help arrived, but in her eyes all he could see was a hollow deadness – her spirit already broken. He wasn't sorry that she had died – in a way, he was glad of it since it was the only way she would ever find peace. What sickened him was that somebody, some_thing_ had so destroyed her, mind, body and soul, that had she lived, nothing could ever have given her peace again. _That_ is what breaks his heart the most. _That_ is what fills him with revulsion and loathing on a level that scares him.

Sitting down on the floor, he pulls her into his lap so he can wrap his arms around her. He's reminded of another time they spent like that, their positions reversed, and he realises that she's not going anywhere and he feels the noose around his heart loosen and the words begin to flow.

"I kill people for a living," he begins as she turns in his arm to level a questioning look in his direction, "—in my books. I am highly paid to think like a criminal and a murderer. You know, Tyson asked me, when he had me tied to that chair," she shivers at the memory of almost losing him, "what it was that drew me to death. He asked me how close to death I really wanted to be." She doesn't say a word, waiting to see where he's going, and he's grateful that she's willing to let him get the words out. "I've thought about any number of gruesome ways to kill another person – heads in microwaves, explosive decompression, impaling by a hundred #2 pencils –" he sees her smile a little at this last one. "I just can't help but wonder," his voice becoming a hoarse whisper, "how little separates me from the people who did _this_."

"Castle, listen to me," he sees pain in her eyes, "do you know what separates you from them? You've never actually taken a life, and you would never, ever hurt a child." She turns fully in his lap so that her legs are straddling his, seeing his eyes widen at the contact of their still naked bodies. "You might kill people in your books, Castle, but you don't break them first. Do you know what it is that drew me to your writing?" she sees him shake his head. "What you write – it's not about death. Yes, somebody always dies – but that's not the point. You write about those who are still living and you give them closure. Always."

His eyes widen, stunned blue meeting glistening green. He'd never thought of his writing in that way before. He'd always felt that his writing was an expression of some repressed darkness tainting his soul. What the Triple Killer had said to him had struck a cord because it spoke to his own fear that the line between himself and the people this extraordinary woman brought to justice was far thinner than he would have liked.

"How is it that you're always able to see the best in me?" he asks in amazement.

Her eyes glitter in mild amusement, "well, I wouldn't take it quite that far-"

Her words are cut off as his mouth crashes onto hers. Though surprised by his intensity, she responds immediately, exploring his mouth as he does hers. He breaks away from her lips to make his way down her neck to her breasts, thrusting his hips up to join their bodies as one. As he feels himself enter her warm folds, he surprises her by wrapping her legs around his waist and standing up, pushing her against the plexiglass shower door.

"Thank you," he whispers into her heated skin.

Those are the last words spoken by either of them as they hurdle over the edge together.

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**Two hours later… **

Nine o'clock finds the two partners emerging from the elevator. As they beeline towards the murder board and Beckett's desk, they're stopped in their tracks by the sight that greets them. While they had certainly expected to see _her_ there, undoubtedly looking like little more than death warmed over from lack of sleep, they are astonished to see _him_ there too, and he looks like hell.

Exchanging looks of surprise, they continue their approach.

"About time you two get here," she smirks, though it doesn't quite reach her tired eyes, "I was starting to think that Castle and I were gonna have to catch this slimeball all on our own."

Esposito turns to meet Castle's gaze. Despite the dark circles under the other man's eyes, he's relieved to see determination there instead of the devastation of the previous morning.

"And let Castle here take all the credit? No way!" he returns the half-hearted smirk at his boss, and, fist bumping his partner, the foursome return their attention to the murder board.

"We've gotta catch this son-of-a-bitch," they hear him say softly, his voice edged with conviction, their eyes fixed to the faces of the children.

"Damned right we will, bro. You're damned right."

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**On a complete sidenote - Countdown? So amazing (so much more amazing without Josh, but I'm secure in the knowledge that his days are numbered). Kudos to both Nathan and Stana for the truly spectacular acting. The bomb diffusing scene? I've watched it a thousand times now. By far my favourite scene of the episode.**

**Just had to get that off my chest.**

**Also - if you guys notice any typos, particularly of the missing 'e' variety - I'm sorry - the 'e' on my keyboard broke and I had to put it in every single time using the 'add symbol' command in Word. Do you have any idea how common that stinking little vowel is? lol.**

**As always - reviews are greatly appreciated - but just knowing that you guys are reading at all also warms the cockles of my over-stressed, about to write finals heart ^_^  
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	6. Chapter 6

**Hello my lovelies! Sorry again for the delay - but this one's twice as long as normal, so hopefully that makes up for things a little bit. Sadly, between the time crunch and the fact that I think my muse has jumped ship, this chapter was particularly hard to work on.**

**This one is particularly dark - though it does end with a glimmer of hope (so don't stop reading yet!). I'm afraid that I might not have kept Beckett and Castle in character as well as I usually do - but in their circumstances, I think that the behaviour is possible. We haven't seen them in this situation much on the show yet - though we've gotten glimpses of both of their tempers, especially Castle's in 'The Final Nail' so I drew on that episode for a behaviour model here. Let me know if you guys think it was too OOC.**

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**Chapter 6**

**Day 4**

"Beckett."

Castle turns his eyes from the murder board to watch the detective as she nods gently, listening to the person on the other side of the phone. After telling whoever had called her to 'send them up', she hangs up the phone, immediately dropping her head into her hands and letting her shoulders sag a little in exhaustion. Feeling Castle's gentle hand on her back, she immediately straightens up, meeting his questioning gaze.

"The relatives of one of the victims have given us a positive ID. Lanie's sending them up from the morgue now."

The smile that started to grace his features quickly dissolved as he saw the look of apprehension on her face. There was something she wasn't telling him.

They had been struggling to ID the children for four days now. Three of the children had come up in files from Child Protective Services. His stomach turned at the thought of how not one, but three children had slipped through the cracks of a system who's sole existence was to protect the people who could not protect themselves. He had always known that the system was imperfect – he'd heard his share of stories about kids being placed in bad foster homes, about how these kids often became runaways and ended up on the street mixed up in drugs. For whatever reason, though, his mind had never considered that this could happen to children so young, still so innocent.

Yesterday, the relatives of two of the children, a brother and a sister, had come forward to claim them. When asked why they hadn't come sooner, the woman had tearfully explained that she'd had no idea that her cousin and his wife had died in a car crash months before – they just weren't a close family. When the news had reached them, they had immediately started looking for the children, intending to adopt them so that they wouldn't have to go into foster care. Eventually their search, along with the report of the children Castle had found, had led them there.

Though both Castle and Beckett had initially been suspicious of the couple's story, their grief had appeared genuine. It was Castle who had uncovered the accident report from the original crash. There was no report of any children at the scene and they hadn't been able to find any evidence of what had happened to the children in the interim. Advising the couple to stay in town, Beckett was forced to release them, though it had tied her stomach in knots.

"What's wrong?" he asked cautiously, seeing his partner already on edge.

Whatever answer she had been about to give him was cut off by the 'ding' of the elevator – they both looked up immediately spotting the couple being escorted past her desk to an empty interrogation room. Castle suddenly understood the apprehension – this couple was a real piece of work. They were young, both of them no older than their mid-twenties. The man, thin to the point of emaciation, twitched as he walked, his red eyes darting about the room as he tweaked out, his brown hair greasy and unkempt. The woman looked like a common street walker, if he were to be kind about it. Her fishnet stockings were dirty at the knees and torn in placed, her leather skirt entirely too short. Her red hair was the only shock of colour and life about her. He'd known that there had only been one child left to identify, the red haired girl who had died in his arms – seeing the red-headed woman walk in, her eyes cold and hard, he felt his heart sink knowing that these were undoubtedly the 'relatives' in question. He sighed. He really had hoped for better for that poor little girl, though he'd known it was unlikely given how he'd found her.

Bracing himself, he met Beckett's own hardened gaze and followed her toward the interrogation room. Just before she opened the door to admit them into the room, she stopped and turned suddenly to look him in the eyes.

Seeing the look in her eyes, the thousand emotions vying for control, he reached out briefly to tuck a strand of her long hair behind her ear. "You can do this, Kate," he told her softly, forcing a smile of assurance onto his own face. Nodding once, she opened the door and together they turned to face their newest nightmares.

Lanie had warned her on the phone. She had told her that, though these people were undoubtedly the relatives of that last little girl, they were definitely not her family. Kate Beckett was just starting to understand her friend's meaning as she looked into the dead eyes of the couple seated in front of her. Steeling herself, she stuffed her feelings and directed her disgust into her interrogation.

"Ms. Walker?" she began, addressing the woman slouching in her chair.

"Yeah?"

"If I understand this correctly, you are the aunt of one of our victims? That you were her legal guardian after your sister died a year ago of cancer?"

The woman snorted a little under her breath, "that's what I said, isn't it?"

"Do you mind me asking why you never reported Alexandra missing?"

"Cause she wasn't missing."

This time it was the man who spoke for the first time. He snickered some as if there were some inside joke that the two partners were just too dim to understand.

Castle started to feel his blood boil and his mind turn furiously. "Are you telling me that you're responsible for what happened to her?" he bit out from between clenched teeth.

"What?" the woman asked incredulously. "Why the hell would you think that?"

This time it was Beckett who picked up the thread, "well Ms. Walker, if she wasn't missing, then it stands to reason that she was still in your care. Our medical examiner found evidence of _months_ of abuse and neglect. It's what we like to call a 'smoking gun'."

"What the hell you on about, bitch? She weren't missing because Seamus here got her some work. She was out living on some commune farm on Long Island. I ain't had nothing to do with what happened to that little ungrateful piece of—"

"Shut up, bitch!" her rant was cut off by Seamus, who had suddenly come to life.

Beckett immediately turned her attention to him, her hatred intensifying with every word that left either of their mouths. "What kind of farm, Seamus? What kind of farm hires _six year olds_?" she was barely holding her temper in check. A quick look to her side showed her Castle nearly shaking with rage.

"Stupid bitch, couldn't keep your trap shut, could you?" Seamus glared at his girlfriend before sighing and turning back towards the detective. "It weren't no farm, ok," he shrugged, "a friend of a friend told me about this guy who buys kids – good price too. I figured, we didn't want her—only reason we came in today was cause we heard there might be a reward-"

"You sold a _child_?" Beckett stood up feeling her blood boil with rage. She looked at the other woman, seeing her shrug her shoulders with a look of innocence as if to say, 'what? Who me?'.

It was the lack of remorse that finally pushed her over the edge. She didn't remember moving forward, she didn't remember breaking the other woman's nose or getting the man in a headlock. All she remembered was seeing red. Seeing red and then feeling someone's arms pulling at her – strong arms – and then he was looking into blue eyes filled with equal parts rage and sympathy.

Only seconds later she found herself in the Captain's office sitting next to Castle on the sofa as Montgomery paces back and forth furiously.

"What am I going to do with you?" his voice is as low, quiet and full of steel as she has ever heard it. "You're lucky we have enough evidence to hold them, but your little stunt in there means that they've both lawyered up so now we have to go through their lawyers to find out more about this 'farm', and they're telling them not to talk."

"Captain…"

"I don't want to hear it Castle," he cuts the other man off. "Go home, both of you. Go punch something, go running – I don't care much what you two do – but whatever it is, it better get your emotions under control. Don't come back here until you do."

He's turned his back on them then, hating himself for what he's had to do. Beckett's his finest officer and he's not sure he would've acted any differently had he been in that interrogation room – but if they were going to get justice for that little girl – for all of those children, then there was no room for fuck ups.

As the two stalked out of the room to the elevators, they're both still simmering with unrepentant rage and left over adrenaline. Castle is somewhat concerned seeing that Kate is actually shaking as she tries to get the key into the ignition. He puts his hand on hers and is surprised when slaps his hand away.

"Don't touch me Castle," she says harshly, glaring at him.

He draws back as if struck. Part of him understands that she's misdirecting her rage at him – but part of him, the part that it still filled with his own undissipated anger, causes him to strike back.

"Fine," he bites out, throwing the car door open before throwing himself out and slamming it shut behind him. He doesn't even look back to see the stunned look on her face as he stalks towards the exit of the parking garage, though he hears her own door open and shut only seconds later.

"That's right, Castle!" she shouts at him from a few feet behind, "run away! Just like you did in that interrogation room!" When he doesn't turn around, she increases her pace, closing the distance. "What's the matter Castle, you stand up to me all the time – but when it comes time to actually standing up to genuine creeps and dirtbags, you clam up? I thought you were better than that—"

Her mocking is cut off as he suddenly whirls around to face her, his eyes practically glowing with barely suppressed rage as he roughly grabs her by the shoulders, pushing her back against the concrete wall. Now he's the one shaking, though his voice is steady and lethal as he speaks. "Yeah Kate, because you did _so_ much better in there. Why the hell do you think Montgomery's sending us home? Because of me? Not fucking likely – this one's on you!" he's almost screaming now and he can see fear for the first time in her green eyes as she realises that she's pushed him too far. But he's on a roll now and there's no stopping the words that fly out of his mouth. "Maybe we'll just start calling you 'Hurricane Kate'," he snorts, "loses her temper every time a suspect says something she doesn't like, just like Vulcan Simmons."

He knows it's a low blow. He knows he's crossed a line. And as he sees her face crumple, he finally feels his own anger dissolve into shame and regret. He feels her start to crumple in his arms and his grip on her shoulders loosens so that he can pull her into his arms. If he expects her to fight him he's surprised to feel her arms wrap tightly around him and her body shake with sobs.

"I'm so—sorry, Castle" he hears her mumble against his shirt, again and again between chokes and sniffles.

He feels his own face wet with tears as they cling to each other in the precinct parking garage, both mumbling apologies for the barbed and horrible words thrown at each other only moments before. Finally she pulls back from him a little, looking him in the eyes, surprised to see the same sorrow and regret on his face as she's sure he sees on hers.

"Are we okay?" he asks softly, wiping the tears from her face with both hands. He sees uncertainty in her eyes.

"I don't know, Castle. Are we?" she sniffles quietly.

He nods gently, turning her back towards the car, taking the keys from her hand.

"Yeah, we're okay."

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**Just to be clear on the timeline here - the end of this chapter, chronologically, brings us full circle to the opening scene in Chapter 1. I hope this hasn't caused too much confusion!**

**Please let me know what you guys think! Your reviews really are the world to me!  
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	7. Chapter 7

**Hello my faithful readers. I know it's been awhile (a long damn while, to be honest) since I've updated, well _any _of my stories. For those of you who have stuck with me this long - I'm very sorry for the long wait. There are a few reasons why this chapter took so long, including an insane school schedule which is slowly but surely starting to sort itself out. **

** I also hit a bit of a block during which my Muse decided to go on Spring Break - I just hope she didn't do anything stupid while she was away...at least nothing that will end up on the internet ;)**

**The last reason, and I've whined about it before - but to tell you guys the truth, I just hit a funk and decided to throw myself a little pity party. I think that I definitely got spoiled when I was writing 'Colder' and it made my expectations of readership and response a little unrealistic but the effect was the same - I went into sulking and convinced myself that there was little point in continuing a story that very few people were reading. Remember the part about the pity party? I wasn't kidding - there were brownies and wine and everything - it was a hell of a party - one which resulted in very little writing.**

** I have _Mamahuhu_ to thank for getting me writing again. Seriously. Your review reminded me that this story isn't about me - it's about telling the story. Thank you.**

**Well enough with the dreg - on with the next chapter!**

_**disclaimer: I've done this for every chapter of every story - I didn't own them then, I certainly don't now - but oh ho ho! When I do, let me tell you - Castle and Beckett'll be shackin' up before you can say "She took my coffee, Castle!" )**_

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**Day 6**

Six days.

It had been six days since that morning – the morning that changed everything and nothing at the same time.

Six days, six children.

Their eyes scan the murder board as though synchronised, connected.

_Justin Ebert, aged 7 years old; blond hair, blue eyes. Parents died in a car accident. Brother of Eryn Ebert, aged 5 years old; brown hair, blue eyes. Both children unaccounted for following the accident._

_Sean Mathews, aged 6 years old; brown hair, brown eyes. Mother was a druggie, father was a deadbeat. In the 'care' of CPS since he was two._

_Sarah Anders, aged 8 years old; black hair, blue eyes. Found on a doorstep as an infant; spent her entire life in foster homes. Parents unknown._

_Chun Hei, aged 4 years old; black hair, brown eyes. American born, put into the system when her illegally immigrated parents were deported and sent back to North Korea._

_Alexandra Walker, aged 6 years old; red hair, blue eyes. Mother died of cancer; aunt sent her to 'work' on a farm on Long Island._

"Her name means 'justice and grace'," she hears his voice, soft and hoarse with emotion and fatigue.

She turns her head to face him, brow raised in a silent question.

"Chun Hei," he says, gesturing to the youngest girl, the smallest, "in Korean, her name means 'justice and grace'," he smiles sadly, his shoulders slumping a little more, as though the weight of the last six days were finally starting to wear him down completely.

Feeling her heart squeeze in her chest, she finds herself reaching for his hand, though they are already sitting close enough to each other that their sides are touching from knee to shoulder. "We'll find them, Castle," she whispers, her own voice hoarse, "we'll find them, and when we do, we'll make them pay."

Though her voice is quiet, her eyes are resolute, unwavering. He nods, returning her gaze and squaring his shoulders, letting her strength and determination push him forward.

The quiet moment is suddenly broken with the sounds of shouting and rapid footfalls approaching their location in front of the murder board.

"Beckett! Castle! We got a hit, let's go!"

Esposito is practically to the lift already when his words finally hit them. Grabbing their jackets, they're moving to join their two partners holding the lift for them.

"What've got, Ryan?" she's all business now. There will be time for emotions later.

"Our little scow in lock-up finally gave up the location of the farm that he sent Alexandra to work at – uniforms and SWAT are meeting us out there."

She felt her breath catch in her throat as her eyes met with Castle's. This was it. This was the break they had been waiting six long days for.

As soon as the lift stopped at the parking garage level, they were practically running to their cars.

"Tell SWAT to hold back until we get there!" she yelled over her shoulder at the two detectives sprinting towards their own car. "I don't want to spook these bastards into running."

Running lights and sirens until they were only a few miles from the compound, the three NYPD detectives and their writer found themselves joining the lines of SWAT officers surrounding the perimeter of the property.

"What have we got?" she asked the officer in charge, a little out of breath from her sprint from the car to the field HQ.

"You Detective Beckett?" he asked, eyeing her suspiciously.

She nodded, flashing her badge. That seemed enough to convince the older man who immediately ushered her to the screens protruding from the back of the black SWAT van.

"Haskins," was all he said by way of introduction, " We've detected multiple heat signatures," he pointed them out on the FLIR screen.

"How many?" she asked, trying to ascertain the situation presented to her in blues and reds on the small screen in front of her.

"It's hard to get a precise number; the compound is extensive and has multiple buildings. In the main building alone, there appear to be 15 or 20 heat signatures."

"Uh – you'll have to excuse my ignorance," Castle interjected suddenly, causing both Beckett and Haskins to glance up from the screen, the former with a look of confusion, the latter, annoyance. Ignoring them both, he turned back to the screen, "Why are some of these signatures smaller and more green in colour?"

Sighing in annoyance, Haskins answered abruptly, "the size is relative to the size of the body emitting the heat signature," both Castle and Beckett's eyes widened at the implication, "the colour is relative to the amount of heat being released by the body. The closer to red it is on the spectrum, the hotter the body, the closer to blue, the colder. Green puts it somewhere in the middle."

"So we know that there are children in the compound," Castle begin, trying to wrap his brain around the new horror he had just been presented with, "so if some of them are red and yellow and others are green, then…" he trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

"That's right, Castle," Beckett lifted her moist eyes to his, "some of them are dying."

In the seconds that followed, she was enormously grateful for two things: her police-trained reflexes, and how well she knew Castle. She'd known the minute that she had confirmed his own train of thought that he would rush in to action without a second thought for his own well-being. Before he'd made it 10 feet from the car, she had him on the ground and was straddling his waist as he struggled to buck her off.

"Let me go, Kate!"

"Castle! No!" she struggles to keep him down, knowing that he only remained so out of fear of hurting her and because he was still stunned by her quick reaction. "Listen to me!" she hisses, grabbing his face in both hands and forcing him to look her in the eyes.

"I can't, Kate!" he bites out through clenched teeth, struggling still against her grip, his eyes wild, "they're children and they're dying—"

"Do you think I don't know that?" she asks him, "don't you think I want to rush in there and take them away, to get them help? Just what do you think is going to happen if we rush in there? Huh? We don't have the faintest idea how many _adults_ are in there, and whether they're armed." She could feel his struggles lessening as her words started to reach him. "I want them as bad as you do," she continues, her voice cracking a little, "but we do this by the book. It's the only way to save them all."

She allows herself to relax slightly as she feels him go limp beneath her. Feeling his hands at her waist, she lowers her forehead to his, ignoring the troops around them who were undoubtedly staring.

"I can't do this, Kate," he whispers, his eyes spilling over as he feels her own tears on fall on his cheeks.

Smiling sadly she replies, knowing the truth of her words with every fibre of her being. "Yes, Castle, you can. You have to – for me, for those children who are still alive, and for those children who aren't. I need you with me to finish this," she feels his hands move up to cup her face, "I need you, Castle. I need _you_. You are my rock, my constant."

She feels his breath on her face as he sighs and closes his eyes for a brief moment.

"Always."

Taking one last breath to brace herself, she pulls back from him to stand. Once she's upright again, she reaches down to help him stand too. Once standing, they both straightened their backs and return to their posts at the field HQ with Haskins.

Ignoring the looks of those around them, Castle immediately turns his eyes back to the FLIR screen.

"Alright then, what's the plan?"

"We've been able to isolate the heat signatures of at least four adults – two of them in the main house, two of them in a smaller building about 500 feet east of the main house. I have SWAT teams in position to storm both buildings simultaneously while two reconnaissance teams armed with infrared viewers sweep the remainder of the compound for additional persons."

Looking to each other one last time, Beckett, seeing Castle nod once, turns to Haskins. "Let's do it."

Picking up the walky-talky, Haskins barks the order to move in. Beckett feels Castle move a step closer to her in front of the screen, and though they neither speak nor look at each other, she takes comfort in his physical presence, finding herself leaning her back into his chest slightly as they both watch the FLIR screen, their breaths held.

Just as they saw the heat signatures representing the SWAT team make contact with the main house, they suddenly found their entire world exploding around them. Before either of them could think or act, they felt themselves being slammed into the ground as their world erupted into a ball of fire.

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**Oh yes, I am that cruel. Gone for nearly a month, and I leave you guys with a dirty dirty cliffhanger. Sorry! It was just the right place to cut it. I promise you though - it won't be another month till you get the next chapter...**

**I hope ;)**

**Please review! Your words really mean the world to me - and they do, whether any of us likes it or not (myself included) influence the speed with which I update - not because I'm holding the new chapters hostage as a ransom for your lovely words (^_^) but because reviews inspire me to write.**

**Thanks for reading! I truly heart you all!**


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm a jerk. I'm so sorry. Not ONLY did I leave you guys with a cliffhanger, but I left you guys with a cliffhanger for a really long time! I hope that you can all forgive me! I'm in the last quarter of my MA and it's (and my thesis) have taken over my life!**

**I would love to promise that the next chapter will be up soon - especially since I've get the rest of the story planned out now until the end (which should be in the next one or two chapters) - but only the PTB know what's in store for me this week - all I can promise is that I will try my best!**

**For everyone who has reviewed - THANK YOU! You guys are AWESOME!**

**disclaimer: it's a little late in the game to start claiming them as mine now, isn't it?**

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**Chapter 8**

**Day 6 - Still**

Pain and heat.

Heat and pain.

Those were the first two things to register in her mind as she clawed her way back up to consciousness through the fog, trying desperately to regain control of her body and force her eyes open. Her initial efforts were rewarded with heat and pain.

Feeling the ground shudder beneath her, she tensed, waiting for another explosion. When it didn't come, she slowly began to realise that something, or rather, someone, had come between her and the ground, and whoever it was, it was the source of the movement she was feeling. Feeling the added urgency of helping the person who might be injured beneath her, she renewed her efforts to force her eyes open and sit up to take stock of the situation. She wished she hadn't.

All around her the trees were burning, the groaning bodies of her colleagues were strewn amongst the wreckage of overturned police cars, the larger vans having withstood the blast, pushed back but remaining upright, though not by much.

Worse than all the wreckage and the potential loss of life, to her at that moment at least, was the identity of the person who had broken her fall, and he wasn't moving. Horrified and begging every deity she didn't believe in that it wasn't true, she felt more emotions rush through her in that one second of realisation than she had ever thought herself capable of feeling. Amongst the torrent of emotions, however, she realised that surprise was not one of them.

She _knew_ that he cared for her.

She _knew _that he would give his life for her.

Above all, she _knew_ that no matter the cost, he would sacrifice himself for her again and again, without a thought for his own life or the people who cared about him.

Sliding herself off of his chest and onto the ground, she reached for his face, her vision blurring with tears and her breath catching in pain. She stared at his face, hard, as though her will could force him to open his eyes and tell her it was ok, that he was just joking. She would grab his ear until he screamed 'Apples' for the cruel joke, but he would be ok. She wiped the streak of blood from his temple, oozing slowly from a deep scalp wound just above his hairline.

She'd heard of the five stages of grief. Hell, she'd experienced them with her mother's murder. Sitting there beside the body of the man she loved, she found herself screaming through the first three steps in rapid succession.

Denial.

Bargaining.

Anger.

She could hear someone talking but couldn't make out the words. It took her a full minute to realise that the voice was coming from her own lips.

"Sonofabitch, Castle! What were you thinking? Why would you do that?" her anguished cries hiccupped between sobs as she found herself punching him in the chest, almost as punctuation.

Her fits were interrupted suddenly when she found her hands suddenly being immobilised. Through bleared vision she made out that someone was holding her hands, preventing her from continuing her desperate tirade. Just as she was preparing herself to fight off the person stopping her from venting her rage and grief, a cough and a rasp broke through to her, causing her to freeze completely.

"Kate…"

"Castle?" she sniffed, looking down at the man she'd presumed dead, still frozen in place with shock. She saw him looking up at her, his face filled with pain and confusion, mirroring her own feelings.

"Why-" he coughed, cutting off his speech, "why are you hitting me?"

For the second time since the bomb went off, Katherine Beckett felt her world explode. The weight of the emotions she'd felt when she thought the man that she loved was dead, in combination with the relief of finding out that he wasn't was too much for her – she just crumbled against his chest and sobbed. In some corner of her mind, she could feel a hand stroking her back gently.

At that point, time ceased to have any meaning for either of them. A minute could have passed, or a year – neither of them could have said. Eventually, however, she became aware of the sounds of sirens and of people starting to mill about them, forcing them back into the world and the situation at hand.

Pulling back from him, she helped him into a sitting position, causing them both to wince in pain from the numerous cuts and bruises they'd received from being tossed nearly 100 metres from their original position by the blast.

Shoving her emotions back into the corner of her mind to be dealt with later, she met Castle's eyes and answered his question from before, her voice raspy and uneven. "I thought you were dead."

"You could have checked for my pulse first before declaring me dead," he joked weakly, seeing the corners of her lips quirk up slightly in response.

Just as she was about to reply, however, a paramedic ran up to them, the reinforcements having finally arrived. As the paramedics pulled them apart to assess their injuries, Castle found himself looking around at the extent of the chaos around them for the first time. As his eyes met Beckett's, it hit him. He saw her own eyes widen at the same time.

"The children!" they both cried at the same time, startling the paramedics and allowing them to struggle free from their grasps.

"Sir! Ma'am! You have to sit down so we can treat you!" the larger of the two medics yelled at them sharply, trying to regain their attention.

"You don't understand—" Castle began desperately.

"There were dozens of children on that compound when the bomb went off," Beckett continued.

"You have to go find the children!" he finished.

Whether it was direness of the situation, or the finishing of each others' sentences that gave the medics pause, no one would ever know, but before the two who now stood on wobbling legs could regain their bearings a second time, both medics were sprinting towards the houses, the smaller of the two barking orders for more medics to get into the field to rescue the children, while the bigger one yelled back at the two of them to make their way to the ambulances to be properly checked out and get out from underfoot.

Knowing that their injuries, as relatively minor as they were, prevented them from being of any use, they began the arduous trek in the opposite direction towards the rows of fire trucks and ambulances that had begun to line the main road. As they staggered into the back of one of the ambulances, barely holding each other up, they began to take stock of the number of injured officers who had either been transported or had made their own way to their current position.

To distract themselves from the feelings of helplessness that were welling up in them, they slowly began to assess their own injuries.

"Kate?"

"Hmmm?" she mumbled as she busied herself trying to find a bandage to stop the bleeding of his scalp wound.

"Kate, stop for minute, would you?"

Sighing, she turned back toward him, raising an eyebrow in question. "What is it? We don't really have time to talk about this right now –"

"That's not it," he cut her off, turning her around and lifting the back of her shirt up. The sudden jolt of pain that screamed through her body stunned her and caused her stomach to rise up in her throat.

"What the hell, Castle?" she gasped out, clenching her teeth in pain. Hearing nothing, she turned her head slowly to avoid a new wave of pain. He was sitting there, more pale than she'd ever seen him, just staring at a spot on her lower back. "Castle?" she tried again to get his attention. Finally yelling his name caused him to finally look up and meet her eyes. "What is it, Castle?"

"It's ah…"

"Castle – What. Is. It." she ground out between clenched teeth, begging him to just tell her what was wrong.

Her tone seemed to snap him out of his stupor some. "You need to take off your shirt, Kate," he began shakily, helping her to lift the shirt off over her head. What she saw as the shirt landed in her lap caused her vision to swim – there was blood, a lot of blood, soaked into the bottom half of the shirt.

"Castle?" she whispered, needing to know.

"You…uh….you have some, uh – " he stuttered some, trying to get the words out. "There's some shrapnel in your back," he eventually spit out quickly, as though getting the words out faster would lessen their effect.

Later on, she wouldn't be able to say whether it was shock or loss of blood, but at that moment, Kate Beckett, NYPD, passed out cold.

Catching her before she landed on her wound, Castle shocked himself by calmly laying her down on her stomach on the stretcher and wrapping bandages tightly around the protruding piece of metal in her lower back to stop the bleeding. Some part of him knew that the calm he was feeling now was just a side effect of shock and adrenaline coursing through his system - the larger part, however, didn't give a damn. All he knew was that he couldn't lose this woman who had come crashing into his life unannounced and unexpected. He couldn't lose her now, or ever. As a paramedic climbed into the ambulance, he heard himself calmly explaining Beckett's injuries, as though he were sitting in the back of his head watching events unfold around him. He saw himself move to allow better access to the medic; he saw himself refuse to let go of her hand on the entire trip to the hospital. He saw all of these things, but felt nothing - nothing but the need to be with her, and the knowledge that he would never let this woman go.

Much later, much _much_ later, after the ambulance had taken them both to the hospital, after they had both been treated for their injuries and released, after the total body count had been tallied, Richard Castle would find himself curled up in a ball on his bathroom floor, shaking and vomiting as the realisation of everything that had occurred in that field hit him like a proverbial tonne of bricks.

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**::runs and ducks for cover::**

**I realise that this technically counts as another dirty dirty cliffhanger (yeah, you better run!), but it was the only place to break things up! I swear!**

**As I said at the beginning, this story is starting to wrap up and so all of the unresolved pieces will all fall into place in the next chapter - I promise!**

**Please read and review! Let me know what you guys think - even if you think it was terrible!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Here it is, my faithful readers - the penultimate chapter! And it's a big'un!**

**I'll leave my A/N to the end so we can get on with the reading! Enjoy!**

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"_At every single moment in one's life, one is what one is going to be, no less than what one has been."_

_-Oscar Wilde_

**Day 9**

Richard Edgar Castle was a writer. Richard Alexander Rogers was a writer. For as much time as he had memories for, regardless of the name by which he went, this part of himself had always seemed immutable, despite what he had once told Beckett about Damien's influence in his life. At the end of the day, at the end of all days, he was, and always would be, a writer.

In many respects, that made him a sort of god, at least to his characters (he cringed a little at the thought of what Kate would do to him if he EVER voiced such a thought aloud in her presence). He chose who lived, and he chose who died. He created their lives and their histories, deciding whether they lived a good life, or whether they were the punching bags of the cruel and uncaring universe formed within the recesses of his mind. Despite this 'power', however, despite his title as the 'Master of the Macabre', despite the fact that he did, in fact, kill people for a living, even if only in ink, Richard Castle believed in happy endings. Despite everything that he'd seen in his time with the NYPD, Rick Castle had steadfastly and mulishly refused to believe in anything other than the possibility of a happy ending. Criminals would be caught, families would be given closure.

Today's reality, however, slapped him clear across the face with the naivety of such a thought.

"_I just wish this was one of your books and you could rewrite the ending." _

This was one ending he couldn't rewrite. He didn't have that power, as much as he longed for it. As much as he prayed to the god of this world for one, his own words couldn't give everyone – or rather, anyone—the ending they had all fought so hard for.

Looking around him at the few people who were seated in the room, some of them crying openly, some sitting in stoic solitude, he decided that if there was a god that judged the everyday comings, goings, lives and deaths of everyone in the real world, that this god was a sadist. A benevolent god wouldn't have allowed for the loss of so much innocence. A god who believed in happy endings wouldn't play with his characters like a cat would a mouse, only to ultimately snuff them out like little more than vermin.

The last few days had taken everything that he thought he knew, turned it on its head, spun it around, chewed it up and spit it out to be walked all-over by the ignorant going about their little lives without a care in the world for those who had suffered – for those who were suffering still.

In all, including the six children that they had found, thirty-six children were found on the compound after the explosion. Of those thirty-six, only thirteen were still alive.

_Alive_ – he snorted bitterly at the word, the sudden sound and movement attracting the attention of the two women on each side of him. Turning to his left, he forced a smile to comfort the red-haired girl, looking up at her father with concerned blue eyes. To his right, he felt rather than saw the support of his partner, as she squeezed his hand in understanding – knowing his mind without need for words, as it seemed she always had.

He finds himself being grounded by their joint presence, despite the seething anger and regret that still gnaw at his soul. He forces himself to pay attention to the service, knowing that he owed those children at least that much, given the magnitude of his failure to save them in any way.

"We are God's children, but sometimes we get lost. When that happens, God doesn't give up on us. He searches for us and he won't stop until we are found," the priest at the pulpit speaks over the multitude of coffins at the front of the room.

He sighs, feeling as though these words, meant to bring comfort to those who are left behind, mock him.

He is grateful when the service ends.

As the coffins are carried away by dozens of pallbearers, some of them the few relatives that could be located who were not guilty of selling their own children into slavery and death, the rest coming from the ranks of New York's finest, rising again to the occasion as they always would, they stand.

He turns to the woman to his right and helps her to stand so that she doesn't pull the stiches on her back. She grimaces with the movement, but flashes him a grateful look through watery eyes once she's back on her feet. They hold each other up as the children leave their sight for the last and final time.

As it all ends, he is struck by the anti-climax of it all. The last nine days had been a roller-coaster ride, a whirlwind of emotions and a sound beating of the mind, body and soul, and just like that, it was now over.

Out on the step, Ashley is waiting for Alexis. He smiles sadly at his girlfriend's father, unable to wrap his mind, as young and innocent as it is, around the atrocities faced by the two adults who stand before him. Sensing his discomfort, Alexis hugs her father and his muse goodbye, whispering to the latter to please take of him, before leaving hand in hand with the boy.

Seeing Alexis turn the corner, Castle finally lets any pretence of being 'fine' drop. He turns to her then, to the woman that he loves, and lets her see every emotion still roiling in his stormy eyes. He knows that with her, he can do that, because he sees so many of the same emotions there in her own hazel maelstroms. They are partners in every way in this – they share their guilt and their anger at an unjust universe.

Slowly and without a word, they descend the church steps and climb into the town car he's called to bring them back to the precinct. Now that they've both been released from the hospital and are on the mend, they know it's time to tie up all the loose ends. There's paper work to be filed and boxes of evidence to be assembled for the upcoming trials.

At the precinct, he gets her settled in her chair, helping her just enough to prevent injury, but not so much that she feels incompetent. One she's seated, he turns to the murder board. It's time to put them all to rest – he squares his shoulders, flinching at the twinge in his arm from his own injuries, and slowly takes down the pictures of those six children – those six children who, whether they could ever know it or not, had saved at least some of their brethren.

"What happens to them now?" he asks softly as he reverently places each photograph into a labeled folder before putting the folders into the brown archival boxes.

He hears her turn her chair around to face him before answering. "As they're released from the hospital, they'll be sent to a children's psychiatric ward under the care of Child Protective Services."

The irony of those children going back into a system that let them down in the first place is lost on neither of them.

"What then?" he's almost afraid of the answer.

"I don't know, Castle," she sighs softly, answering him as honestly as she can, "they're still trying to track down family members for as many of the children who survived…" she trails off, unable to finish the sentence as her own guilt threatens to choke her with her own words. "They've found the parents of two of the children," she continues after taking a firm grip of her emotions again, "we've cleared them of any wrongdoing, and once they're fit, they'll be going home again." She tries to smile for those two – the two who survived everything else, and who still had the hope of having a loving home to go back to.

She sees that he's thinking about all the others who don't have that, however, and his shoulders slump under the weight of it all.

"I can't help but feel like we didn't do enough," he finally sighs, his head still down, holding the picture of little Chun Hei.

"We did what we could, Castle."

She's trying to comfort him, but it's clear that she doesn't believe her own words, and he knows it.

"Did we?" he asks, his voice suddenly hard and angry, his fists clenching the edges of the photograph. "Did we do enough? Because I feel like we didn't. I feel like we spent so much time caught up in our own fucking emotions that we didn't give to them as much as we could have. I feel like—"

"Stop it."

She's standing now, though he's not sure when she stood up or how much pain she undoubtedly caused herself in doing so without any assistance. He can see the pain her eyes, along with the anger and self-recrimination.

"You stop it right now, Richard Castle. Because that, right now, is enough. This isn't about you, or me, or whether or not we did as much as we could. It's not about the children we saved and it's not about the one's that we didn't. Do you want me to say it? Fine. We failed. We fucked up. We screwed up in every possible way and now more than twenty innocent children are dead and another dozen are going to be so damaged for the rest of their lives that they'll be lucky if they can ever regain anything close to normalcy."

"But—"

"No, Castle," she's moved to within inches of him, poking him in the chest as she punctuates her sentences, letting her own emotions flow through her, seeking release, "we might have screwed up somehow, we might have failed – but we – you and me – we did. not. hurt. those children."

As though those last words have drained the last of her reserves, she finds her legs buckling beneath her and is glad to feel his hands reaching out to catch her as she falls. Looking into his eyes, she sees the tears and the anger still lingering around the edges of his concern for her.

"We're not the monsters, Castle," she whispers finally, letting him help her back into her seat.

For several minutes they sit their quietly, each in their respective seats, not speaking, not looking at each other, though their hands connect them still.

The moment is broken when they hear a throat being cleared above them.

"There's somebody waiting to see you two in the break room," is all the Captain says before turning back to his office. He's been where those two are right now, and he knows that they'll have to claw their own way back to the surface. He just hopes that their unexpected guests can help jumpstart the process.

Exchanging looks of confusion, the two slowly get to their feet and make their way to the break room. To say that nothing in the world could have prepared them for what, or rather who, greeted them, would've been the world's greatest understatement. As they walked into the room, four pairs of eyes greeted them – two children and two adults.

Cheryl, the CPS officer, they were already familiar with – the other woman, however, was a stranger to them both. That said, it was not so much the adults that stunned them, as the children. There before them stood two of the children rescued on that horrific day, only three days ago now, cleaner, but still showing the signs of abuse and the injuries from the blast.

"I don't understand…" it was Beckett who was the first to regain her voice.

Before either of them could say another word, however, they found themselves being engulfed in a tearful hug by the other woman in the room. Through the tears, the only words that either of them could make out was a garbled 'thank you'.

After a few moments, the woman stepped back, though she was still barely in control of her emotions. The stunned detective and her writer turned to the only other person in the room who could tell them what was going on.

"I think you two should probably sit down first," Cheryl gestured to the couch, waiting for them to seat themselves before continuing from her own chair. "Amanda is the mother of Angela," she indicated the elder looking of the two girls in the room. "Angela was kidnapped by her father three years ago when she was 6 years old; Amanda has been searching for her ever since."

The two on the couch turned to the still sobbing woman, now clutching her daughter returned to her, wearing matching stunned looks. This time it was Castle who found his voice first.

"Who is—" he trailed off indicating the other girl who had remained silent throughout the entire discussion.

"Angela tells us that her name is Lily. Lily hasn't spoken a word to any of us, though physically, she is doing well," she smiled kindly at the little girl.

"She talks to me," Angela's soft voice broke out from within her mother's embrace for the first time. Wriggling out, she walked up to her smaller friend, and the two girls instantly joined hands, a small smile forming on both their bruised faces. Together, they walked up to the sitting form of the man on the couch. "She wanted to see you. She told me she has something important to tell you."

If anyone had told Castle that he would one day be rendered speechless by a child, he would have never believed them. As he still struggled to come to terms with what was happening, he finally saw that the girl named Lily was looking up at him, her arms out in the universally recognized gesture for 'up'. Though still stunned, his paternal instincts take over and he finds himself scooping the little girl up, his eyes tearing up at the sight of the bruises on her face that are still healing.

He feels Beckett stiffen next to him in shock as the little girl reaches out, touches both her hands to his face and whispers so softly he almost thinks that he's imagined it. "Thank you."

Somehow it's as though those two words have broken the dam that was holding the man together. He feels it break and is powerless to stop it. As the little girl wraps her arms around his neck, the levies break; soon he is clutching her tiny frame as gently as he can as sobs wrack his body. He's only vaguely aware that he's blubbering out the word 'sorry' again and again into the child's knotted hair. The emotions rushing out of him are more powerful than anything he's ever felt in his life.

Sitting beside him, Kate Beckett finds herself being caught up in the undertow of the emotions flowing fiercely out of the man that she loves. She finds her own tears running down her face as her arms wrap around the two – man and child. It's only a brief moment before he's opened his arm to draw her closer.

Feeling the sobs starting to subside, the three slowly start to drift away from each other. As Lily slides back to the ground, Kate and Castle find each other still too stunned to let go of each other. Shortly, the girl moves to her friend to whisper in her ear.

"She says that you can't say you're sorry... Angels don't say that they're sorry."

"I don't understand…" it's Kate again who vocalizes their dual confusion and shock.

"We saw you," the older girl says simply.

"When?" it's the only word he's capable of saying.

"From the truck," for the first time, Angela's eyes turn to the floor, as a shudder runs through her body, "you found our other friends," she whispers.

"They both saw you again at the scene," this time it's the mother who speaks up, having finally gotten control of her voice, "as you two were tending to each other in the ambulance. They saw you and…they just…" she sniffles before continuing, "they knew that it was you who had saved them."

Neither knows what to say anymore. The emotions are just too raw. They just stare at the foursome as they make their way to the door, though not before both Angela and her mother hug their two saviours again.

As she walks out the door behind the family, Cheryl turns to them one last time. "Amanda will be getting custody of both girls once they've completed some intensive therapy. I thought that you two might need to see that some good has come of all of this. Promise me that you'll remember that in the coming days."

And with those words, Castle and Beckett have found themselves alone in the break room, unable to speak or move. Neither knowing how long they sat like that, still in each other's arms, before the wound in her back forces her to change her position, startling them out of their collective trance.

Looking into each others' eyes, they feel the forgiveness of one lost child break over them like a wave, easing their burden, if only a little.

"Are we ok?"

"No," he answers truthfully, "but we will be ok. "

She smiles through her tears – it's the first genuine smile either of them has had since it all started nine long days ago and he finds the corners of his own mouth twitching up as he's drawn into her light.

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**WOW - that one just about killed me to write. I very much hope that you've all enjoyed this helluva rollercoaster ride - there's just a small, uber fluffy epilogue coming up and then this puppy's done for good.**

**A very special thank you to the four of you who reviewed the previous chapter - your words (and vituperation! I'm looking at you sarahlovesa! ;) ) pushed me forward while I struggled to get the words onto the page. And to all of you who have added me to your StoryAlerts along the way - you guys rock my socks off!**

**Please let me know what you thought - again, I say, the bad with the good - it helps me to grow as a writer and it allows me to write the kinda stuff that you guys want/enjoy reading!**

**A thousand thank yous for sticking with me this long again! Big digital hugs to all of you!**

**Cheers! ^_^**


	10. Epilogue

_**Epilogue**_

**Day 40**

One month. It had been one month since they buried the children they had failed to save. One month since a little girl had given them absolution and forgiveness for their failure. One month since they had begun the process of putting their new demons to rest.

During that time, there had been a number of good days and many more than their fair share of bad days. There were days when they clung to each other desperately seeking solace and forgiveness in each other and in themselves. There were days when they pushed each other away, throwing words of vituperation and anger, words of fear. Good or bad, there were days of healing.

There were days, like today, when he just sat back and wondered at it all because, despite, or in spite of everything else, they were still 'them'. She was still a cop; he was still a writer. They were still partners.

_Partners_

As a writer, he believed that he understood the meaning and the power of words. That one word, however, he had severely underestimated it and its impact in his life. Because, at the end of the day, no matter the harsh words and physical and emotional blows delivered, by them or by the world they lived in, they had each others' backs. They held each others' hearts. They were bound by their very souls.

Neither of them were self-deluded enough to believe that they had made it out the other side unscathed, that they weren't broken on some fundamental level. Those children, both alive and dead, had broken them; they had been taken apart piece by piece and, like Humpty Dumpty, they would never be put back together again to the same configuration they had originally come. Some pieces were broken beyond repair, some were lost for good, others simply didn't fit anymore because the originals had been so radically altered.

In the face of all these changes, however, neither believed that they weren't better people.

For Kate Beckett, those children taught her that it didn't make her weak to rely on another human being for comfort, for peace. They taught her that sometimes you need a friend to help you stand. They taught her that, sometimes, in receiving comfort, you were also giving it. Above all, the words of one small child, one broken little girl, taught her that forgiveness was a special and rare gift, one that she aspired to give more freely.

Richard Castle learned that you don't always get a happy ending. He learned that no matter how many resources and how much money you think you have, you can't always manipulate the world into giving you what you want, no matter how much you want it, no matter how desperately it's needed. Most importantly, however, he learned that even when things don't end the way you want or need them to, that life never throws anything at you that you can't handle; that happy endings aren't synonymous with perfect endings. He learned that sometimes it's not enough to hope and wait and strive for happiness; sometimes you need to simply open your eyes and take those small crumbs of light and joy out of the tragedies that life throws in your face.

Lying in bed, the second most important woman in his life next to Alexis, wrapped up in his arms sleeping peacefully, he notices the way the sliver of sunlight peeking through the window glances of her cream-coloured shoulder and glinted off her chestnut strands of hair. He runs his hand lightly down her naked back, stopping at the top of the sheet, bunched down around her waist at some point during the night. He runs his fingers lightly over the puckered edges of the scar on her lower back. They both know he has the money and access to the best plastic surgeons who could make the scar disappear forever – but without having ever spoken of it aloud, they both embrace that scar as a reminder, a memorial.

When they make love, he's drawn to that spot, almost against his will, and he shivers as she moans when his lips tenderly brush against the sensitive nerve endings surrounding the scar tissue. Like everything else that has changed in their lives, her physical scar is a reflection of their capacity to both love and hate, to succeed and to fail.

It represents them, all of them, the good and the bad.

He hears her sigh in contentment and looks down to meet green eyes with blue. She smiles sleepily up at him, tightening her arms around his waist. He whispers "Good morning," as he leans in to kiss her softly.

"What are you thinking?" she whispers back softly as they pull apart.

He meets her eyes again, allowing her to see the truths in his own gaze. "I was thinking about us."

She smiles, reaching up to running her fingers across his brow and down the side of his face, trying to soothe the worry-lines creasing his face. "Have you come to any stunning new conclusions?" she quips.

"Actually, I have," he answers, his eyes lighting up in preparation for their newest battle of wits.

"Is that so?" she can't help but quirk her eyebrow, wondering what new 'thing' about them he could possibly have come up with in those early morning hours.

"Did you know that you make the most adorable little drool bubbles in your sleep—"

"I do not!"

He loves the look of horror that graces her delicate features as her face reddens in embarrassment. He continues as though she'd never spoken, "—and every twenty seconds or so, you give a little snort in your sleep—"

This time she resorts to smacking him on the chest, knowing perfectly well that a little physical pain would hardly deter the highly amused man-child she was still curled up next to.

"—and even when you fart in your sleep-APPLES! APPLES!"

The fiendish grin that lights up her face in spite of her mortification, in conjunction with the brutal twisting of his ear is finally enough to make him stop…sort of.

"Is there a point to this morning's 'Roast of Katherine Beckett'?" she asks sitting up, her brow still arched in annoyance, her mouth still quirked in mild amusement, as she watches him rub his reddened ear.

"I was getting to it," he mutters, pouting, "but if you're gonna be mean about it, I'll just keep the nice parts I was gonna say to myself."

Seeing her hand start to twitch as her eyes go back to his ear, he easily concedes defeat.

"I was gonna say," he sighs, "that all of those things somehow just make me love you more, and I don't even know how that's possible."

Immediately she feels a little guilt for wrenching his poor ear and averts her eyes from his penetrating glare. "You know, Castle, you really need to work on your openings."

She feels his fingers under her chin, tilting her head up to meet his eyes again. Without another word, he moves in to kiss her tenderly, before trailing his kisses down her jaw to the sensitive spot where her ear meets her jaw and he's rewarded with her sigh of contentment.

"I love you, Katherine Beckett," he whispers into her ear, loving the shiver that he feels rush up her spine, "always". He pulls back then so he can see her face, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. He needs her to see him, to really see him. "No matter what, Kate, we _are_ okay, and even when we're not, we will be."

"I know, Castle," he brushes a stray tear from her cheek with his thumb. "I love you too. Always."

He leans in then to kiss away her tears and show her the truth of his words. As he lowers himself onto her, she pulls back a fraction of a space, forcing him to stop.

"The orphanage was a nice touch," she whispers, smiling, seeing a touch of red tint his own cheeks.

"How did you—"

"I'm a detective, that's what I do."

"My mother told you, didn't she?"

She can't help but smile. Despite everything, despite the horror and the heartbreak, despite their naked limbs tangled together and their heated bodies touching in every possible way and place, they're still 'them'.

"You're a good man, Castle," she breathes, meaning it with every fibre of her being.

This time, the glassy eyes are blue and stare at the woman beneath him with affection and wonderment.

"I'm not," he whispers, her brow furrowing at his denial, "but I'm certainly trying to be."

She smiles then and lets him close the distance between them again. They move together as a single being, giving and taking, loving, touching, and most of all, being.

They're still alive, a little broken, a little bruised, but so long as they're together, they're whole.

* * *

**Wow. **

**That's it guys. I made through - and so did you. Thank you all so much for sticking it through with me. This piece was the hardest thing I've ever written. It challenged me as a writer, but more, it challenged me a human being. And I thank each and every one of you, those of you who read, who favourited, who followed, and above all, who reviewed. Your words kept me going when I was ready to give up - when the story got too hard to tell.**

**For those of you who have desperately been awaiting an update on 'The Truth About Lies' - I haven't given up on that story - it's just on temporary hiatus. I found it too difficult to write both of these stories - I just couldn't flick the switch and go from this story to the much lighter and fluffier. Also - I've been going through a rough patch in my personal life that hasn't really allowed me to see much humour as of late - but things are changing and as with all things, this too shall pass. And when it does, you can bet your britches there will be fluffy and funny updates galore!**

**Please, leave a review - let me know what you think even though the story's done - your feedback helps me to improve not only the stories I'm currently writing, but the stories that I will write.**

**Thank you all again. ^_^  
**


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